


( of injured sparrows )

by Acacius



Series: Sunshine for the Damned [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Blood Drinking, Consensual Mind Control, In case you're worried about the tags there's no dub/con or anything like that, It's fairly wholesome up until the end when things get steamy lmao, M/M, aka lots of kissing, also fight me all vampires in this game are bi i don't make the rules, kind of, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 23:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14272203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acacius/pseuds/Acacius
Summary: Post Blood & Wine. Late one night, Dettlaff stumbles upon an injured sparrow and its would-be rescuer, a human scholar half-buried under snow.





	( of injured sparrows )

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i've never written oc fanfiction on ao3 so forgive me if this just seems.... completely out there. this is completely self indulgent and was spurred by the fact that dettlaff deserves better. all i want is for him to have a happy ending tbh. so enjoy, if canon character/oc is ur cup of tea!

“Little bird, little bird!” The man echoed into the dark, gloveless hands digging frantically through the blankets of snow. Each scoop of snow burned like fire in his hands, but Lionel persevered, worry and concern etched in the slant of his orange brows. Snow clung to and tickled the bridge of his freckled nose, but he made no move to wipe it away, silver eyes narrowed in his search for the bird. 

“If you weren’t the same color as this damnable snow…” He muttered, cursing inwardly at his own stupidity. Of course he’d impulsively leave the warmth of the tavern for a late night stroll through the woods, enamored by the fullness of the moon and its radiance. 

He did always love the dark, a love only rivaled by his adoration of all living creatures—animal and, from the half-filled bestiaries he’d managed to procure, monster alike. It was this foolish love that led him to be knee-deep in snow, completely underdressed for the weather, as he listened for the telltale chirp of the albino sparrow he’d seen tumble from its perch. 

Like looking for a white-painted needle in a snowdrift, Lionel dug into the snow even though his hands were growing numb. His skin was only a few shades away from the blue of hypothermia, but he endured until he heard a muffled chirp and felt the soft feathers of the bird. Quickly, he clutched the injured sparrow to his chest and struggled to free himself from the heavy snow banks to no avail. 

He sunk further and further into the snow the more he struggled, panic making a home in his chest. Freezing to death in the middle of the woods was quite a pathetic way to go; Lionel could hear his father now, lamenting that his only son had died trying to save a sparrow of all creatures. It wasn’t anything close to the knight’s death his father always dreamed for him and despite it all, Lionel felt a pang of guilt. His father had always been supportive of his endeavors, had no qualms sending Lionel to the nearest university to study despite the amount of coin it cost, and had even allowed him to rehabilitate injured animals at their home throughout his childhood. His father deserved, at the very least, for Lionel to die saving someone in distress or fighting some ferocious beast. 

He didn’t know how long he remained stuck in the snow, but at some point, tiredness and lethargy seeped into his marrow, spurred by the cold that threatened to suffocate him. It took all of his strength to keep the sparrow from touching the snow, cradling the poor creature in his arms. Then, there was nothing but darkness as Lionel succumbed to the weight of the snow and its soft, deadly caress. 

Somewhere beyond the trees, a vampire watched, form drifting back and forth from fog to corporeal as his interest grew. He hadn’t reinstated himself in human society since Syanna’s betrayal, having grown used to the empty forests and caves of the Touissant wilderness. But it was the near foolish kindness of the man that brought Dettlaff closer, brought his traitorous conscience to the forefront; he’d inadvertently ended many human lives during his three-day rampage on Beauclair. Saving one human life did not make up for his impulsivity, his need to have Syanna and the duchess hurt in the same way he did, but Dettlaff wasn’t looking to settle moral scores. If he saw goodness, then goodness he returned—it was a simple addition to the vampiric codex, one which had him popular with lower vampires, that made him have perhaps the largest pack of any singular vampire. 

Unable to simply watch the human freeze to death, Dettlaff approached in a wave of black-red smoke. Tendrils engulfed the unconscious man, lifting him up until he was resting comfortably in the vampire’s arms. The human’s head lulled to the side, exposing the column of his neck, and Dettlaff looked away. In such a short amount of time, he’d forgotten how good human blood smelled. 

…

When Lionel woke, he found himself cocooned in a mess of thin cotton sheets, heat radiating from the nearby fireplace. Blinking slowly, the man took in his surroundings, noting that the simple one-room cabin, while not extravagantly furnished, did bespeak of someone’s humble life. The wall was lined with bookshelves, all tomes seemingly categorized by color, there was a dusty coffee table with a single chair tucked in, a worktable where numerous carpentry supplies were displayed, and then there was a man sitting on a simple sofa, a knife in hand as he carved the outline of a toy wooden horse. 

Briefly, they made eye contact and Lionel had to immediately look away—his hyper empathy made the weight of the other man’s stare feel near colossal. There was a great sadness inside him, a sadness that Lionel had never encountered before in another person. He felt physical pain in his chest for a moment, features contorting in turn. 

“Are you in pain?” The voice that spoke was smooth and low, melodic in a strangely calming fashion. There was no attempt to hide his concern, a refreshing honesty in the straightforwardness of the other man. 

“No, I’m alright. Thank you…” Lionel trailed, propping his head up further upon the pillows. “I am indebted to you, truly sir. I would have died in the snow if it weren’t for you.” 

“You owe me nothing.” Dettlaff replied, rising from the chair. He reached into one of the deep pockets of his coat, revealing a sleeping silver sparrow. The bird gave a loud chirp in surprise, looking much better than it did before. It ruffled its own feathers, pecking at imaginary dirt before settling contentedly in Dettlaff’s palm. 

“Ah, I’m so relieved! I was sure the little thing was a goner.” Gingerly, Lionel disentangled himself from the sheets, surprised to find himself only in his undershirt and smallclothes. 

“Your clothes are drying by the fire.” The vampire pointed to the metal rod by the fireplace where his clothes hung, still damp with snow. 

Lionel grinned, giving a laugh. “Right, thank you for going through the trouble. Hypothermia’s a nasty illness. Would rather keep all my fingers and toes.” 

Dettlaff merely nodded in turn, crossing the length of the room to hand over the little sparrow. Now close up and features highlighted by the nearby flames, Lionel squinted at the familiarity. The shape of the man’s heavy brows, aristocratic nose, and thin lips were so familiar… but Lionel couldn’t quite place him. He did not notice that the man had no shadow. 

“Have we met somewhere before? I am Lionel Belrose, a philosophy student at Favreau Academy.” He asked, cupping the bird gently in his hands. He gave a small smile, looking up at the other man expectantly. 

The otherwise amicable expression Dettlaff had been wearing slowly melted away into stone, as if Lionel’s words had hurt him somehow. “I am no one. I expect you to leave the moment the snowstorm passes.” 

“I-I would never want to take advantage of your hospitality.” Lionel started, panic bubbling to the surface. This was how it always happened, wasn’t it? He always put his foot in his mouth and ended up alone and friendless. He hadn’t had a close friend since he was thirteen winters old, so it would be a lie to say he hadn’t entertained the notion of befriending his mysterious savior. “But please, surely you have a name. I’d hate to depart without at least putting a name to the face.”

“…Dettlaff van der Eretein.” The man replied after some time, returning to his seat across the room. He did not look in Lionel’s direction, gaze fixed on the carving of the wooden horse. 

The rest of their time shared together was spent in an awkward silence, Lionel unable to rouse more than one or two-syllable answers from the other man. Eventually, he gave up, taking to petting the sparrow still cupped in his hands. Once the snowstorm subsided, he changed back into his clothes and left. The path back to the nearest village was relatively straightforward and so Lionel went on with his life, enjoying his final free weekend before the semester started. 

It was only when Lionel returned to the Academy that he passed a signboard, and on it, a half-torn depiction of the Beast of Beauclair. His eyes widened at the familiar visage of none other than Dettlaff, and scrawled underneath, a sum of crowns so great that he could retire comfortably at his current age. 

…

If there was one talent Lionel was proud of, it was his near eidetic memory when it came to paths and roads. He could remember names of streets, how to get from Novigrad to Touissant and vice versa after just one trip. So it was no surprise that he was able to find his way back to the cabin one week after his fateful meeting with Dettlaff. 

“Dettlaff? Are you here?” Lionel called, knocking at the door. Just as he was ready to give up, having gotten nothing but silence in return, he felt a cold hand grasp the back of his neck. A shiver wracked his frame at the feeling of hot puffs of breath against his skin, knowing full well that pointed fangs rested just behind his lips. Fear gripped him, his survival instincts telling him to fight, to run, to do anything to get out of the vampire’s grasp, but he forced himself to remain still. 

“Speak. Why have you returned?” The voice was rough, deep, different from the calm and pleasant tone he had heard in the cabin. 

“I have a gift for you. That’s all, I swear!” 

“You were foolish to come back.” He released his grip but remained unnaturally close to Lionel, practically towering over the shorter man. 

“Here.” Lionel reached into his satchel to give him two medium-sized tomes. “The first one is on carpentry, which I thought might be useful to you. The second is more of a textbook of sorts on introductory philosophy. You strike me as someone who would enjoy learning for the sake of learning. We could even discuss some of its contents—“ 

“Don’t come back here. Ever.” Dettlaff interrupted, though he did take the books from Lionel’s arms. “If I see you again, I will take it as a threat.” 

Perhaps it was out of an inborn foolishness—something his father had said he had plenty of—that had him blurting out the truth. He just couldn’t hide it any longer. It felt like he was lying, in a way, pretending that he didn’t know Dettlaff was far from a regular human. 

“I-I know who you are, Dettlaff. I didn’t know when you saved me, but I saw a poster and—“ 

Dettlaff had transformed, turned into some bat-like hybrid as he once again pinned Lionel down, this time his claws fully extended, dropping the man harshly to the ground. Lionel felt the air leave his lungs from the force, pain blearing his vision as he felt the vampire sneer in his face. “So you thought you’d come back and kill me? Collect a reward for bringing the beast’s head? I should have known—all you humans are the same.” 

Lionel shook his head, one hand reaching up to clutch at the vampire’s arm imploringly despite the danger in it. “No, I just wanted to warn you. I heard that the duchess has requested even more patrols—some which will undoubtedly cross your lone cabin. I don’t want there to be any unnecessary bloodshed!” 

“Tell me, why should I believe you?” 

“Because I carry no weapon nor ill will towards you. I am sure you had your reasons for the attack. I cannot condone your actions, but I believe that anyone can change. It’s the root of my philosophy as a humanist. So do what you will, but know I don’t hate you—for what you’ve done or what you will do.” With nothing else to prove his intentions, Lionel closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, waiting for whatever fate the vampire chose for him. 

To his surprise, he felt a human hand grasp his own, helping him to his feet. The touch was as fleeting as it came; Dettlaff retreated to the cabin, holding the door open expectantly. “Come.” 

Picking up his fallen satchel, Lionel stumbled behind, vision still somewhat clouded. He had hit his head pretty hard against the wet ground, but at least he wasn’t feeling dizzy. Rubbing at his temples, he took a seat on the bed. 

Dettlaff put Lionel’s gifts on the table, fingers briefly grazing the covers before he addressed the man. “…I acted impulsively. I apologize.”

“It’s alright. I’ve felt worse. Besides, you were just protecting yourself.” He paused, flashing the vampire a smile. “So, where’s our little sparrow?” 

“She’s doing well. I made her a home of sorts, a place to recuperate.” Dettlaff fetched what appeared to be the most intricate birdcage Lionel had ever seen, filled to the brim with scavenged flora, a place for birdseed, and a water dish. 

Lionel gave an appreciative whistle. “Spoiled. Absolutely spoiled. She won’t want to return to the wild after all this.” 

“I’m sure she’ll want to return to her colony soon enough. Very few animals are solitary creatures by nature.” 

Lionel hummed in return. “That’s true. Humans certainly aren’t. What about vampires, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“We are social in nature as well. Only a tiny few truly wish for solitude. We make packs, similar to how humans have family units. Only most pack members are not related by blood, it is a conscious decision to join a vampire’s pack, a decision that cannot be undone.” Somehow, it felt almost cathartic to talk about vampire culture to Lionel. Perhaps it was in the way he listened in rapt attention, gaze never leaving Dettlaff’s. He was sure that the man would be jotting notes down if he had any parchment or writing utensils. 

“So I’ve read through what bestiaries I can find, but the vampires in them are nothing like you. They aren’t humanoid at all. Do you have any books I could borrow? I’d love to learn more about your species culture.” It was an innocent enough request, one that surprised Dettlaff. 

“Are you truly that interested?” 

Lionel nodded. “Of course. I’ve been studying the Conjunction of Spheres since I was a child. I know I could ask you these questions, but I don’t want to annoy you with simpler questions that could easily be answered from a tome.” 

Dettlaff handed over a few books, warning the man that some of the writers did not have high opinions on humans, but Lionel shrugged the concern away. “I’m not surprised. From what I’ve gathered, your species is effectively immortal. It must be difficult to relate to beings whose time on earth is but a blink of an eye. At least you humor me… it’s more than I could have hoped. I was fairly sure you’d kill me by the end of the night, if I’m being honest.” 

Confusion marred the vampire’s features. “But you still came. Why?” 

“Stupidity. Curiosity. A lack of self-preservation. Loneliness. Call it what you will, but I was really hoping we could be friends. If you think you could ever consider a human a friend.” Lionel confessed, unable to look the other man in the eye. He was so pathetic; if he couldn’t make any human friends, what were the odds of him playing nice with a vampire? 

It was a long time before Dettlaff responded, voice dripping in melancholy. “My blood brother has a close human friend. They seem as if they’d be polar opposites, but their friendship is strong. Built on mutual trust and respect. It is possible for humans and vampires to be friends, but I am not very good at trusting humans. Or anyone, really. But, with time, I think I could learn to trust you.” His words were true. Lionel was different from Syanna. He didn’t want anything in return, didn’t want to use him for any sort of nefarious plot. He seemed the epitome of kind and gentle—something Syanna never was. At the very least, he deserved a chance.

At his words Lionel’s expression lifted and he had to still himself from rushing over and hugging the man. “I understand, Dettlaff. Trusting people is hard—but we have to try, otherwise loneliness will destroy us.” 

The pair talked well into the night, discussing anything from vampirism to philosophy until the spindles of sleep grew heavy in Lionel’s eyes, and, without much preamble, the man fell asleep. One moment, he was discussing the time he saw a griffin past by his home, and in the next, he was slumped over, completely unconscious. It seemed that he really did trust Dettlaff, even if hours before, he had him pinned to the ground and was seconds away from slicing his throat. 

Carefully, Dettlaff removed the man’s boots before tucking him underneath the covers. Lionel muttered something in his sleep, but otherwise did not stir. Despite himself, Dettlaff’s hand hovered over Lionel’s chest. He had the strangest urge to press down, to feel the warm skin there and listen to the thrum of his heartbeat. Was this what Regis felt when looking at Geralt? There was something inherently touching in the man’s blind trust, something that stirred emotions deep in the recesses of the vampire’s heart. 

Dettlaff pulled away, lips pressed into a frown. Here he was, growing attached to another human. Every time he let one in, they ran away with a piece of his heart. But Dettlaff couldn’t control the fount of emotion inside him; he’d always been like that when it came to acts of kindness. The moment another being showed him interest, gave him a modicum of compassion, he was enthralled. 

But Dettlaff was tired of tragedies. Just this once, he wished to be happy. 

…

__

Dear Regis, 

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize for hiding from you, but I needed to process my emotions alone. I am doing better now. Many of my old wounds have closed and I am no longer tormented by the ghosts of my past. Much has occurred since we departed from each other at Tesham Mutna. I have actually made a human friend. He reminds me of you, to some degree, as he is talkative and painfully kind to a fault. I write in the hopes to assuage your worry. I appreciate everything you sacrificed for me and I only hope that, one day, we can walk and converse, like old times. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you, blood brother. 

Sincerely,  
Dettlaff van der Eretein

__

Signing his name, Dettlaff curled the parchment and attached it to the raven’s foot. Lionel watched with interest as the raven flew away, squinting at the sun as the bird disappeared behind a veil of trees.  


“Sending letters by raven seems mighty convenient.” 

Dettlaff nodded. “It is.” He took in the sight of the other man, feeling a pang of something wholly familiar in his chest at the wide grin he received in return. It had been close to eight months since his first meeting with Lionel and both men had undergone a transformation of sorts. 

Lionel, who, while not necessarily timid, had grown quite comfortable with the vampire. He’d rest his head on his shoulder, loop an arm around the other man’s arm during their walks through the forest, and had hugged him multiple times. He seemed much happier, as if some great burden had been lifted off him and was always ready to engage Dettlaff with whatever topic he was learning at university. He also did not shy away from asking personal questions about vampirism, even going so far to ask if humans could be turned and what being bitten felt like. 

His questions were innocent, Dettlaff was sure of it, but they still brought a stifling heat to his core. The closer he got to Lionel, the more he had to keep his monstrous side away. Still, no matter his body language, Lionel always squirmed to be closer, practically shoving Dettlaff’s face into his neck, reaching to entwine his fingers in the older man’s hair. 

“Your hair’s a lot softer than I imagined, Dettlaff. Do you use any products?” He asked, as if it were perfectly normal to have a vampire pressed tight against his chest. His hands gently combed through the man’s dark locks and it took all of Dettlaff’s control to not tighten his hold on Lionel. 

“No, just water.” His voice was muffled, careful to keep his fangs from accidentally nicking the warm flesh pressed against his lips. 

“I see…” He stepped away and Dettlaff immediately longed for more physical contact. 

“Oh look, Regina’s come to visit!” Lionel pointed to the white sparrow that rested on the roof of the cabin. 

“She looks well. I’m glad.” Dettlaff said, angling his head to get a better view of the bird. It was his idea to name the bird Regina, partly because it reminded him of his time tending to a certain barber-surgeon, but also because he found the name to be fitting for the animal. Despite her unusual plumage, she had slotted in nicely to another colony and was quite popular. 

Lionel laughed sweetly. “I feel like a proud father.” 

Dettlaff nodded in return, watching as the bird flew away, content to have seen the two men who had nursed her back to health. 

“Hey Dettlaff, I have a favor to ask of you.” 

“What is it?” 

“I was reading through the latest book you gave me about vampires… is it true you can control people?” 

Dettlaff shook his head. “It’s… complicated. I’ve never tried to control a human before so I have no experience with it. I know that some vampires use it during feedings to make the human more pliant, but nothing more.” 

A light blush dotted his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. I-I was just curious as to what it might feel like.” 

“You want me to try and control you?” He asked incredulously. Just what was going on in Lionel’s mind? The idea of Lionel under his control, willing and malleable and completely at his mercy, was an alluring thought—but one he pushed deep into the recesses of his mind. He wouldn’t betray Lionel’s trust, not for something as debase as a few moments of pleasure. 

“It’s not like that!” Lionel started. “I just… I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I have a week before my thesis is due and the stress has been keeping me awake. I thought you might be able to help.” 

If he realized his phrasing, he made no show of it. Dettlaff sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I can try. But I need your explicit permission. You need to be one-hundred percent certain that this is what you want.” 

Lionel rushed forward to hug the vampire—something that was quite commonplace considering how tactile the human was. “Thank you, Dettlaff. I can’t wait to have a full night’s rest.” 

Entering the cabin, Lionel kicked off his boots and began to strip to his smallclothes, completely unaware of the other man’s intense stare. Pulling the sheets over himself and settling upon the pillows, he waved a hand over for the vampire. 

“I’m ready. And I trust you, Dettlaff. Do what you need to do.” 

The vampire sucked in a breath, approaching the orange-haired man. He pressed a hand to Lionel’s shoulder, knowing that, at the very least, there needed to be physical contact for the magic to work. “Look at me.” Dettlaff said, blue eyes boring into the man. 

Lionel obeyed, no hint of fear or trepidation in his expression. Slowly, Dettlaff began his mental push, reaching forward in an attempt to feel for Lionel’s mind. He felt nothing.  
“I don’t understand. This should work…” Dettlaff trailed, analyzing the situation. It only took him a moment to realize what was missing: blood. It was life, energy, what made Lionel who he was. The magic of vampires always required blood. 

“Dettlaff? Are you okay?”

The vampire immediately snapped out of his reverie. “Yes.” He grimaced. “I just think I figured out the solution. I need… a sample of your blood. No vampiric magic can work without blood.” 

“Is that all? You frowned so intently I thought I was going to have to give up an arm.” Lionel joked, completely unfazed. “So what works best for you? My wrist, my neck, my shoulder?” 

“Lionel, this is dangerous—I rarely drink human blood because it is so addicting. You could be seriously hurt.” 

“Yeah, and if Fate wanted it, I could’ve been murdered by bandits on the way here. I already told you that I trust you, Dettlaff. It’s okay.” He looped his arms around the man’s neck, bringing him closer. “Please, drink.” 

The conflict was apparent in his eyes. Dettlaff imagined himself digging his fangs into Lionel’s neck, gulping down rivulets of blood, sating a hunger he’d ignored for centuries. He imagined cradling him afterwards, licking away the blood and bringing his lips to Lionel’s, allowing himself that which he craved. But he also imagined a darker future, where he couldn’t stop himself and Lionel was drained dry, a shell of the human he’d grown to care for. 

In the end, his more desperate, animalistic side won out. Feeling his last shreds of control slipping away, he brought his mouth to Lionel’s in a deep kiss. Icy fear slipped into his chest when Lionel did not immediately return the affection. Dettlaff pulled away as if he’d been burned, wanting nothing more than to disappear in a cloud of fog. 

Lionel opened his mouth and then closed it, fingers reaching up to brush his lips in awe. “I’m not already dreaming, am I? You actually feel the same way as I do?” 

“No, you are quite awake.” Dettlaff supplied, voice rough with want. He waited for Lionel to initiate the next kiss, softer, sweeter than their first. He didn’t know how long they stayed like this, exploring each other’s mouths, but he knew that he could have done so for an entire century and it would feel as if no time had passed at all. 

Dettlaff’s mouth began to trace Lionel’s jaw, dipping down until he was pressing a kiss at his Adam’s apple. Lionel squirmed underneath him, fingers digging into the fabric of Dettlaff’s coat. He licked at the column of his neck, trailing his tongue against the hot flesh. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Dettlaff confessed, pressing a flurry of kisses against Lionel’s pulse point. From the moment he found the man buried in the snow, he’d been imagining what his blood would taste like. 

“P-please. Dettlaff… I need you.” Lionel pleaded, the beginning of tears welling in his eyes. It was all too much—he could feel Dettlaff’s emotions, feel the urge that the vampire had otherwise kept guarded. 

And so Dettlaff bit down, groaning at the hot flood of blood that entered his mouth. He drank deeply, clutching Lionel in his arms. All his thoughts pinpointed on the man underneath him, on how lovely and kind and beautiful he was. Adoration seemed to pour out with every draught of blood, something sweet that he could taste against everything else that made up Lionel. But he knew he needed to stop soon, that he was encroaching upon taking too much of the other man’s blood. 

As gentle as possible, Dettlaff released his fangs, tongue slithering out to catch the final rivulets of blood. He placed a kiss on the man’s temple, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Thank you, Lionel. For your trust. Your blood. Your love.” 

With a yawn, Lionel gave a sleepy grin. “Anything for you, Dettlaff. You’ve brought me nothing but happiness.” 

In the end, he did not need to use any sort of spell. Discarding his own clothes, Dettlaff pulled Lionel to his chest, murmuring sweet words in his vampiric tongue. Lulled by the rhythmic tone of words, Lionel fell into a deep sleep. Dettlaff pressed himself closer to him, burrowing his face in Lionel’s orange locks. He breathed in his scent deeply, placed a final kiss to the back of his neck, and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> ahh if y'all enjoyed this please lemme know bc i'm thinking of continuing it w/ cute little non-connected drabbles about their life together. also they totally end up adopting children from Orianna's orphanage bc boi is Dettlaff pissed™ when he finds out about what she's been doing. And Lionel, the little lion that he is, was ready to fight Orianna even tho he could be killed in half a second rip. so yeah, if you want anymore fluff of these two, do lemme know in the comments~ xoxoxo
> 
> oh also, i didn't really get the chance to explain Lionel's special ability too well in-fic, but he basically has hyper empathy (think will graham in nbc's hannibal but a lot less murder-y) which is why he has very few friends and is fairly good at understanding Dettlaff despite his "confusing human thoughts" as Dettlaff would call them lol.


End file.
